


The Parentheses All Clicking Shut

by MacksDramaticShenanigans



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Eddie Kaspbrak, Adult Richie Tozier, Brief Mentions of Eddie's Canonical Death but it's not reality in this so, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, Flashbacks, Introspection, M/M, Mornings, Nightmares, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Slice of Life, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Tenderness, They love each other so much okay, they're going to live a long and happy live together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 12:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20866169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacksDramaticShenanigans/pseuds/MacksDramaticShenanigans
Summary: The quiet padding of bare feet against the hardwood is the only warning Richie gets before a pair of strong, warm arms slide around his waist. They bring him back to the present moment, grounding him there. Richie leans back into the embrace, bringing his free hand up to rest atop the pair clasped together over his stomach.“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” Eddie says, hooking his chin over Richie’s shoulder. He disentangles his own hands and twists his fingers into Richie’s, thumb rubbing soothingly over his knuckles.“Sorry, I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” Richie says. “Didn’t want to wake you with all my tossing and turning.”Eddie hums in response and turns his head so he can press his cheek to Richie’s shoulder, hugging him tighter to the front of his body in the process. “Mm, everything okay?”Richie pauses for a moment to really think about that question.Is everything okay?





	The Parentheses All Clicking Shut

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii!! So uh, welcome to my first IT fic!!! Honestly, this is a surprise to me too haha. With the release of Chapter 2, I expected to be back on my bullshIT (hehe see what I did there? ;)) but honestly, I couldn’t have guessed that it would be to this extent! But hey, here we are and I couldn’t be more thrilled!!
> 
> Writing for a new fandom/pairing is always a fun experience, especially in the beginning when you’re still trying to figure the characters out and find what works and what doesn’t. Like I said, this is my first IT fic, so hopefully it isn’t too rocky on that front! I tried my best!
> 
> Anyways. I was googling Richard Siken poetry because I really really love his work, he has some truly beautiful pieces, and I came across one poem in particular, called [Meanwhile](https://66.media.tumblr.com/dae2c048b6a297a9eaf31489485cd857/tumblr_ohgqeer7551r8bkboo1_500.png), and almost immediately I got this very distinct image in my head and I sat down to write it, and out of all the pairings I’m into right now, it just seemed to fit best with Reddie, so I just rolled with it, and this is what I came up with.
> 
> The title, of course, comes from the poem [Meanwhile](https://66.media.tumblr.com/dae2c048b6a297a9eaf31489485cd857/tumblr_ohgqeer7551r8bkboo1_500.png) by Richard Siken. Please please give it a read, it really is lovely.
> 
> Thank you to the loml for giving this a quick read over for me. Other than that though, this is unbetaed because I was too impatient to look for someone to properly beta it lmao. So, of course, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Now, without further ado, please enjoy this tiny slice of life of our two favorite losers. <3 Hope you all enjoy!

The clock reads 5:03 a.m. when Richie looks at it, and he rolls onto his back, scrubbing his hands over his face with a quiet sigh.

Another fucking nightmare.

Richie stays on his back for a few minutes, cold hands covering his face as he works through some breathing exercise Mike showed him once. In, two, three. Out, two, three. Repeat. Until his heart stops rabbiting in his chest and his mind stops racing.

It takes a few repetitions, but once he’s able to regulate his breathing again, Richie closes his eyes again and tries to go back to sleep.

It’s a fruitless attempt, though. After a nightmare like that, once he’s awake, he’s awake.

Richie spares a glance at the lump curled beneath the blankets beside him. A soft smile pulls at his lips, and he reaches over to tuck a corner of the duvet more securely around a shoulder. Then he kicks his feet over the edge of the bed and stuffs them into his slippers.

He grabs the thin robe that hangs on the hook by the door and shrugs it on before slipping out of the bedroom to head towards the kitchen, and ultimately, the coffee maker. Might as well start the day properly.

There are boxes everywhere, most still stacked and unpacked. Richie nearly stubs his toe on one— that would have been a shitshow. Also not the first time he would’ve done that. He swears that stupid plastic fern had been laughing at him the last time he did that.

They’re working on the boxes, though, slowly but surely. They’ve only been here for four days now, and that’s hardly enough time to unpack the entirety of one’s life in Richie’s humble opinion. The bedsheets and pillows had been taken care of, of course, as had almost all of the bathroom things— upon Eddie’s insistence. All the important, necessary kitchen items have been set up, too. Like the coffee machine and the skillet.

Richie spares that pan a glance as he collects his chipped coffee mug and presses the  _ brew _ button on the coffee machine, thinking maybe he’ll make some eggs for breakfast a little later. It’s too early now.

Once the coffee’s been poured, he leaves the kitchen, steaming mug in hand. He comes to a stop in front of the window just past the kitchen and looks out at the view. For such a shitty little apartment, the view is actually quite nice. It’s surprising— Richie had half expected to see nothing but a brick wall when they’d first checked the place out, but he hadn’t, and he’d loved that. Instead of a brick wall, Richie can see the rest of the neighborhood from his vantage point. Can watch the long street stretch on, see the typical family homes bracketing it, driveways and tire swings tied to the trees and all. Streetlamps crop up every few feet, as do a few mailboxes. There’s a sewer grate, too, and Richie’s stomach turns at that. He doesn’t linger too long on it.

The trees outside sway in the morning fall breeze, leaves dancing on their branches.

Richie pulls the ties of his robe tighter around himself and takes a sip of his coffee.

It’s a quiet morning, save for the dog Richie hears barking somewhere down the road, and the spluttering cough of a car starting followed by the soft humming as it drives away.

Across the way, he watches a woman step out onto her front porch to light a cigarette. It takes her a few tries before she gets it. Her hair is brown, but she reminds him of Bev all the same. And the street itself reminds him of the one Bill used to live on.

And it’s not uncommon, this. Finding things that remind him of the rest of the Losers. It happens often. Richie thinks it’s his way of not letting himself forget— not that he will this time. He knows he won’t. He hasn’t yet, after all, and he hasn’t been in Derry for months now. That, and he knows that they’ll all keep in touch. He’s already heard from Bill and Mike both, several times since they all parted ways, and Bev and Ben promised to send a housewarming gift once they got back from their trip.

Richie doesn’t like thinking back to the last time they all saw each other, not at all. Who would? It had been traumatic for so many reasons. Reasons he hates forcing himself to relive. He does, though. Relive them. Mostly in his dreams— nightmares. He can’t exactly help that. 

It’s what had woken him this morning.

It had been about Eddie again. They usually are. Eddie, hovering above Richie, touching his face, calling his name, looking so excited, so  _ proud _ , telling him that he killed it, and then… then that horrible way his face twisted up in confusion, that awful way he slowly looked down at his chest where It’s claw protruded, shining with Eddie’s blood, that terrible cry of pain— from Eddie, from Richie, from everyone— that echoed all around the cavern. And then it was Eddie’s lifeless body, lying slumped against the rocks. It was the glazed over, dead stare in his eyes, the way he wasn’t answering Richie, the way he couldn’t find a pulse. And then Richie was being torn way from Eddie, being pulled towards the way out. Leaving Eddie behind. Richie fought against it, tried to go back for him, but his friends wouldn’t let him. “He’s gone, honey,” Bev had said, so careful, so heartbroken, holding back her own tears. Richie didn’t want to hear that. “We can’t lose you too,” Mike had said. But Richie didn’t care; he kept screaming Eddie’s name, trying to break free from Mike and Ben’s grip. He desperately hoped that by some miracle Eddie would come stumbling out the door any second now, complaining that they left him behind. But he never did. And then the house collapsed, crumbling in on itself, taking Eddie with it. 

But that was just a nightmare. That wasn’t what really happened. It couldn’t be because Richie knows he would never just give up on Eddie like that, not even if everyone else had. And thankfully, they hadn’t. 

_ “Richie, we have to go,” Bill pressed, the urgency evident in his tone. All around them the cave had started to quake, started to deteriorate, rocks breaking off and spilling down into the muddy water below. _

_ Richie ignored him, fingers tightening in the front of Eddie’s shirt as he kneeled at his side. He pressed his free palm to Eddie’s cheek, staring down at him with wild, desperate eyes. His palm slid down to the side of Eddie’s neck, two fingers searching for a pulse. When he found nothing, he gripped at his wrist, groping for any sign of life there too. He let out a frustrated cry when he came up empty once more. _

_ “Honey,” Bev said softly, touching Richie’s shoulder. “He’s gone…” _

_ The words tore through Richie’s heart, and he shook his head right away. “No he’s not. No he’s fucking not,” he gritted out, wiping harshly at his eyes. “He’s not d… he’s just hurt. He needs to… he needs a hospital. We just need to get him out of here and find a hospital and then he’ll… he’ll be  _ fine _ .” _

_ He sounded hysterical, he knew that. But, hell, he  _ was _ hysterical. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be  _ real _ . This wasn’t supposed to happen. _

_ “Richie.” This time it was Mike. “This place is gonna drop on us all if we don’t leave right now.” He was calm and measured with his words, like Richie was a horse he was trying not to spook, but that wasn’t enough. _

_ Richie smacked the ground. “Not without Eddie!” He yelled, anger spilling through and breaking his voice. “I’m not leaving him!” _

_ And how could they even expect such a thing? How could they expect him to leave Eddie here? How could  _ they _ just leave him here? He was one of them, he was a Loser too, and Losers stick together.  _

_ “What happened to… what happened to Losers stick together, huh?” Richie shouted, breaking his eyes away from Eddie for the first time so he could properly look at everyone else. “Losers stick together no matter what,” he continued, brows furrowing together and lips wobbling as he tried to hold himself together. “This shouldn’t be an exception. It shouldn’t be a fucking…” His voice failed him then, and he gasped for air as a strong wave of grief hit him smack in the chest, and an uncontrollable sob bubbled up. _

_ It was Bev who broke first. “He’s right,” she said. “Losers stick together. And Eddie… he deserves us to try. We have to try.” _

_ There was a brief moment where nobody said anything, and Richie was almost sure they were going to disagree. That they’d let rationality outweigh any sense of loyalty they held to one another. _

_ But then Bill gave a nod, short but firm, an apologetic look on his face as he stepped forward.  _

_ Mike and Ben stepped forward too, and relief flooded through Richie, but it was short lived. _

_ Trying to lift the lifeless body of a grown man wasn’t an easy feat, and the fear returned full force as they struggled to support Eddie between them and carry him towards the way out. _

_ It wasn’t easy, not by a longshot. Not with the cavern toppling around them, not with the small crawl spaces and the narrow ladder up. _

_ But Richie wasn’t going to give up. And he knew that the rest of them wouldn’t either. _

_ They made it out just in time, all six of them collapsing in the middle of the street as the house they had just been in gave way and caved in on itself, turning to broken wood and dust. _

_ But Richie hadn’t spared it much more than a passing glance. The house falling apart was the least of his worries. _

_ Eddie was sprawled against the asphalt, head cradled by Richie’s hands. He was pale and covered in graywater sludge and dirt and blood. Richie’s jacket had fallen away to reveal the gaping hole in his chest again, and god, it looked so much worse in the light. Torn skin and so much blood. _

_ Richie swallowed down the bile rising to the back of his throat and focused on helping Eddie. He lost his button up so he could hold it to the wound, putting pressure on it to try and stop the bleeding, or at the very least hold it off. Eddie had already lost so much blood, and Richie wasn’t sure how much more he could afford to lose. _

_ Again, he searched for a pulse, checking Eddie’s wrist, his neck, bending down to press an ear to the left side of his chest. Richie couldn’t find one anywhere. _

_ He felt a frenzied panic start to set in, and he pulled Eddie into his arms, clutching at him tightly. “Come on, Eds,” he begged, suppressing a sob. His lip wobbled, eyes stinging and already streaming. “Come on,  _ please _ . You can’t die, Eddie, you can’t fucking die on me. Don’t do this!” _

_ Richie choked around a broken sob as he was met with continued silence, and he buried his face into Eddie’s chest, holding him the way he never got the chance to hold him. And as the last flame of hope began to flicker out, Richie let himself weep for the man he loved most. _

_ “Hey, asshole, you’re getting tears in the… the fuckin’ crater in my chest, and that’s fuck...fuckin’ unsanitary.” _

_ Richie’s head jerked up from where it had been pressed against Eddie’s sternum, eyes wide behind stained and cracked glasses as they land on his face. And he… his eyes were open, blinking slowly, sluggishly, but blinking nonetheless. He was breathing, too, ragged and shallow. Each barely there rise and fall of his chest had a fresh bout of blood leaking from the wound. It made Richie wince and he knew it wasn’t fucking good, but he couldn’t help but feel relieved to see that because it meant  _ Eddie was alive _ . _

_ The hand he was still gripping squeezed weakly around his own, and that was enough to jerk Richie out of his awed stupor. He sniffed hard, blinked, then choked out a thick, wet laugh. “ _ Eddie _ ,” he breathed, reaching up to clutch at his face. “You’re  _ alive _ !” _

_ Another manic laugh bubbled past Richie’s lips. “Fuck, Eddie. I knew you weren’t fucking dead!” Then he was crushing Eddie to his chest in a hug. “You scared the shit out of me, though,” he mumbled against his neck. _

_ “ _ Fuck _ !” Eddie gasped out. “Hole in the chest! Hole in the chest!” He reminded, and instantly Richie eased his grip. _

_ “Shit, sorry, sorry!” Richie apologized, concern etching itself across his features as he pushed Eddie’s shoulders back and examined his chest, checking to make sure he didn’t worsen it. “Fuck, we need to get you to a hospital.” _

Richie shivers at the memory, blowing out a wobbly breath before taking another sip of his coffee to try and calm himself down.

He’s not a religious man, not by a long shot, but he thanks whatever sentient being may or may not exist up there every single day for the turn of events that day. For keeping Eddie around. For forcing him to finally get his shit together and tell him how he feels. It may have nearly scared him to death, but it had scared him to life too.

The quiet padding of bare feet against the hardwood is the only warning Richie gets before a pair of strong, warm arms slide around his waist. They bring him back to the present moment, grounding him there. Richie leans back into the embrace, bringing his free hand up to rest atop the pair clasped together over his stomach.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” Eddie says, hooking his chin over Richie’s shoulder. He disentangles his own hands and twists his fingers into Richie’s, thumb rubbing soothingly over his knuckles.

“Sorry, I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” Richie says. “Didn’t want to wake you with all my tossing and turning.”

Eddie hums in response and turns his head so he can press his cheek to Richie’s shoulder, hugging him tighter to the front of his body in the process. “Mm, everything okay?”

Richie pauses for a moment to really think about that question.  _ Is everything okay? _

His eyes flicker towards the window once more. The woman smoking her cigarette has gone back inside, leaving it completely empty out there. It’s quiet, too. But not in a bad way. There’s nothing ominous or foreboding about it. It’s peaceful. For the first time in a long time, it’s just peaceful.

And Richie can feel that around him too.

A second chance had been offered that day in Derry, and Richie had taken it by the horns, embracing it fully and completely. And the payoff? Fucking fantastic.

As he nuzzles back into Eddie’s body, he can feel his heartbeat, steady and sure, where his chest presses against his back. He’s healing. Richie’s healing. They’re together. Here in their brand new apartment, with their whole entire future ahead of them. This new journey they get to embark on together. Not necessarily an end to anything, but a new beginning.

For the first time in as long as Richie can remember, he wouldn’t change a god damn thing about his life. 

He couldn’t be happier. 

Richie sets his mug on the windowsill and twists in Eddie’s arms to properly face him. He separates his hand from Eddie’s only to reach up and cup Eddie’s face between his palms, and as cheesy as it sounds, he’s got his entire world right there in his grasp.

He traces a thumb gently across the scar on Eddie’s cheek, and thinks to himself how brave this man in front of him is. How brave and how strong and how wonderful. How much he loves him.

Richie’s sure his eyes have gone all soft around the edges, and the smile that pulls at his mouth is a thoughtful one, a tender one. The kind he reserves for Eddie’s eyes only.

It isn’t long before the corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches, and then he too, is smiling, so soft and so sweet. Richie can see it in his eyes, just how much he’s loved by this man, and it makes his heart ache in the best way.

Richie lets one of his hands fall down to the front of Eddie’s t-shirt— one of his own, he notes, old and ratty from years of use— and places his palm over the left side, just over his heart. It beats strong beneath his touch.

It’s something Richie’s taken to doing quite often since that day. It never ceases to make him feel better.

Eddie’s hand comes up to cover Richie’s, and then he touches his cheek.

“Everything is great,” Richie finally answers, and he really means it.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, leaning in and nosing at Richie’s jaw before tipping his head back to meet his eyes again.

“Yeah,” Richie confirms. Then he ducks his head and kisses Eddie, long, slow, sweet.

It’s far from the first kiss in this new beginning, and it’ll hardly be the last, but Richie savors it anyways. With Eddie, everything is worth savoring.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think with a kudos and a comment! 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/brooklynbabybucky) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/BrklynBabyBucky)! :)


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